The Example
by katbybee
Summary: Written for the 2017 HH Mini Bang & Sayla's Forum XIIIc Challenge #5, Patton & Hogan. Although Stalag 13 was real, (subcamps) and I have been informed that it was actually his son-in-law who was in the Stalag, the idea of Hogan being Patton's son was just too delicious to pass up, so I had to give it a shot. Thanks Snooky-9093 for the info! Usual useless disclaimers.


Written for both the 2017 Big Bang's Mini-Bang and the Forum XIIIc Challenge 5) Hogan and General Patton – Sayla

 **Stalag 13, 1943**

Col. Robert Hogan lounged against the wall of Barracks Two, watching the volleyball game. There was a fierce rivalry between the men of Barracks 2 and Barracks 10, and the games sometimes got pretty rough. Nobody usually got hurt, but once in a while, the game would break out into a scuffle. His attention was drawn to the road outside the gate. Several Gestapo staff cars were pulling up, and suddenly the camp guards began herding the prisoners towards the barracks. "Raus, raus! Back inside! All prisoners are confined to barracks until further notice!"

There were protests, but the men had little choice. Within minutes, the yard was clear, and all windows were closed and secured from the outside, with a guard at each door. The cars roared to a stop in front of the Kommandantur. Hogan watched through their periscope as agents and guards piled out of the cars. A prisoner was pulled out of the back of one of the cars. His head was covered with a black hood, and his hands were shackled in front of him. He was dressed in what looked like American Army fatigues. No rank was visible, which meant he must have been some sort of officer, from whom they had removed his rank. Hogan watched as they marched the prisoner up the steps and into the building.

What happened next shocked them all. Kommandant Klink and Schultz exited the building, both carrying suitcases. Corporal Karl Langensheidt, carrying a small duffel bag, loaded the three bags into Klink's staff car and opened the doors for the other two men. Schultz and Klink got into the car. Langenscheidt got behind the wheel and they drove out the gate.

Kinch had already set up the coffee pot, and the men gathered around to listen in. They had known nothing of any VIP prisoner coming to the camp, because they were waiting on a needed part for their radio, and they had been out of communication with London for the last few days. This also meant that they had curtailed their trips into town, and since Schnitzer came only once a month to change the dogs unless by pre-arrangement, they had been effectively cut off from the outside.

They heard the normal shuffling around as the men in the room settled in. An unfamiliar but harsh German accent was first. The speech was the standard, "You are a prisoner of the Third Reich" spiel they had heard a thousand times. The answer given by the prisoner was also standard…name, rank, and serial number. The voice, however, was anything but. "General George S. Patton, Jr., United States Army, Serial Number…" The men at the coffee pot heard no more, because Hogan suddenly reeled back in shock and dropped into his desk chair. "Pop!"

Equally shocked, his men turned to stare at him. He was pale, and had dropped his head into his hands. They looked at each other in confusion. Finally, Newkirk recovered his wits slightly. "Come again, guv?"

Hogan did not look up. He mumbled, "No. Not him. Anybody but him. I don't know what to do." Finally, he turned despairing brown eyes on his men. "What the hell am I gonna do?"

Realizing the colonel was in no shape for anything right now, Kinch took over. He turned his attention back to the coffee pot. The others tacitly followed his lead. They listened as the agents attempted to interrogate Patton. It was, of course, totally useless. After a frustrating hour, they finally gave up. They took him from the office and installed him in Klink's quarters with two guards watching him at all times.

Kinch unplugged the pot. Hogan was completely silent. Kinch sighed. "So, uh, Colonel, anything you wanna share with the class?"

Hogan smirked. He blew out a breath. "Not especially. But it looks like I have no choice. You guys might as well get comfortable."

He sat back on his bottom bunk. Kinch sat in his desk chair, Newkirk hitched his leg onto the edge of his desk, LeBeau leaned onto the other side of the desk, and Carter took a seat on Hogan's footlocker. They all stared at their commander making him feel momentarily like a kid at show and tell.

"Okay, yes. My father is General Patton. I started using my grandmother's maiden name in school, for reasons of security. It was pretty much a given that I would make the military my career, although he was not pleased that I chose to be a flier. We never have gotten along very well. My mother insists it's because we're too much alike. I don't see it, and neither does he." Hogan chose to ignore Newkirk's quiet snort of laughter.

"Anyway, the only ones who know we are related are Churchill, Roosevelt, and a few of the very top brass. Too sensitive. When I took on this assignment, the feeling was that that if the enemy ever found out about our relationship, the operation could be endangered on my end, as well as cost him his life. We never even thought about _this_. These clowns apparently have no clue what's going on here. I don't think this is about me. Otherwise, you can bet Hochstetter would be up to his ears in this mess. We need to know what's going on. How and where did they grab him? The last I heard, he was in North Africa playing with tanks. How the hell did he end up here?"

Kinch looked at Hogan. "Okay, first. Does your father have any knowledge of the operation here?"

Hogan shook his head. "None. I was adamant about that. I wanted as much distance between us as possible." There was an edge to his voice that told his men that he was not speaking only professionally. He paused, and his voice was almost too soft for them to hear. "I need to keep him safe. He's not very good at that, and my mother needs him."

Kinch thought, " _Right, pal, and she's not the only one."_

Hogan continued, sounding more like himself. "We've gotta figure out how to get him outta here. We need to talk to him."

He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking. "Newkirk, go down and check out the periscope downstairs. We need a read on the guards. LeBeau, same thing at the sink. Keep an eye out front. Be careful. The goons won't hesitate to play rough with both Klink and Schultz gone. We better toe the line as much as possible. Kinch, go see if you can't jury-rig some kind of radio…anything. We have gotta be able to communicate somehow. Carter, I'm sure we're gonna need some diversions. How about you come up with a variety of goodies? Not sure what we'll need yet…but you get the idea."

Carter grinned. "You betcha, boy—sir! I've got just the stuff. Fitz and I just made a fresh batch of poppers. I could make some smoke bombs and…"

Hogan held up a hand to stem the flow of words. "Great. Thanks! He sighed. "I've got to figure out how to get in to see him It's a lock they have guards inside with him. Everybody back here in in two hours. Okay, let's move out."

~HH~

Hogan was restless, and he spent the time in his quarters. The men had been shocked when he had told them about his father, but somehow, not surprised. Carter had pointed out that his father's stlyle of leadership was a lot like his own. The others had agreed with him.

Hogan thought back to all the lessons his father had taught him over the years. All the fights they had gotten into. There had been times they had not spoken for months at a time. Times he had rebelled against the man he had considered a dictator and a martinet. He had even spent a few weekends in jail before he had straightened out his act.

He was perfectly aware that he had nearly loused up his own career with his antics. But it was hard being the second son of a legend. His older brother, Junior, had followed in the old man's footsteps all the way. But not Robert. He had wanted to fly from the moment he could walk. He had tried to convince his father that Junior could carry the family mantle…but his father would have none of it.

One thing he would always be grateful for was that his father still passed on the things he felt were important…the lessons her felt every man needed to learn and pass on to his men. Because his father had expected his sons would someday be leaders, no matter what path they chose. He made that very clear. He had stellar expectations for each of his children…his daughters included.

Hogan leaned back in his bunk, remembering the most valuable talk he ever had with his father, not long after Hogan had volunteered for the RAF. His father had been furious at first. Not at his son, but at the United States military, for he felt war was inevitable. *

They had talked late into the night, and Patton had given his son the most valuable advice he had ever given him. It was advice he never forgot, and lived by with every team he had every commanded. It was especially true of the men here at Stalag 13: "Never fail to honor your people. When a true leader's work is done and his aims fulfilled, they should say and believe, 'We did this ourselves.'"

He had no clue how to get in to his father out…until Carter tapped on his door. "Colonel, I just wanted to let you know I got those smoke bombs ready for you."

He waved him away. "That's fine. Tell the guys I'll be out there in a—" He stopped and looked at Carter. He snapped his fingers. "That's it! Carter, you're a genius!"

Carter looked at him in confusion. "I am?"

"Of course you are! We'll have some of the men toss those smoke bombs off the roof of the barracks and distract the guards. That way, we can get somebody in to talk to my dad."

Carter frowned. "But the guards inside won't leave him."

They will when you bring your fireworks show to the roof of the Kommandantur."

Carter lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh boy! I've got some stuff I've been working on…This is gonna be fun!"

"Carter, just remember, you can't burn Klink's quarters down. We need them."

The sergeant smiled sheepishly. "Oh, sure, sir. I'll remember." He grinned happily. Hogan rolled his eyes and chuckled as they headed into meet with the rest of the team.

~HH~

Patton was sitting in the parlor of the Kommandantur. He had no real complaints regarding his treatment so far. The food was definitely a cut above what was available at his own headquarters, although he could have done without the sullen attitude of the little French chef who had cooked the dinner. The Kraut officers were pigs, of course, but that did not account for the POW's attitude towards _him_. They were supposed to be on the same side, after all!

And the blond American who acted as wine steward! He was little more than an oaf, and Patton had dismissed him without another thought. Especially when he had disappeared halfway through the meal and not returned. When questioned, the chef claimed the young man had developed, "stomach trouble." _Hah! A bad attack of laziness was more like it!_

He eyed his two guards sitting at the dining table, staring at him impassively. He had been trying all day to test their resolve and watchfulness. They had not let their guard down even for a moment.

Suddenly, distant fireworks started going off right outside the front windows. The two guards reacted instantly, and one of them trained his rifle on the general, while the other peered out one of the front windows. The guard nearest him pushed him to the floor and Patton found the man's rifle pushed into his back.

There was a tremendous explosion and a lot of shouting in the camp as the entire front porch exploded. Both guards ran for the front door, convinced that at least a batallion of infantry was after their prisoner. Patton himself turned his head to the side and was just trying to figure how to best to take advantage of the situation when he was amazed to see the woodstove slowly move to the side and a man in RAF blue peer out at him from the floor.

The man gestured urgently, "General, come here, quick. We need to talk"

He scooted over. He knew the guards would be back momentarily. "What is it?"

Newkirk looked at him. "No time for introductions. We can get you out. Stay put. Don't try anything. It may be a day or so, but we'll make it sooner if it looks they're gonna move you. We've got the place bugged. Be ready for anything."

Patton shook his head. "Who are you? What are you talking about, man?"

Newkirk sighed. "Ever heard of Papa Bear?"

"Of course."

He smirked. "Welcome to his Den."

Patton pointed to the trapdoor. "Down there?"

Newkirk nodded. "We'll get you out as soon as we can." He frowned as he looked over Patton's shoulder. "Get back, sir. They're comin'."

With that, he dropped through the trapdoor, and the stove slid back into place.

~HH~

Fortunately, the Germans seemed content to hold Patton for the next day or so. It didn't seem they were holding him for ransom. In the few conversations they had managed to have with him, Patton thought it was more a delaying tactic than anything. He had been on his way to a strategy meeting in London when he had been grabbed. The details were classified, but that was the gist of the situatation.

Hogan used the time to come up with a plan to rescue the general and Kinch used the time to swipe enough parts from various locations throughout the camp to temporarily repair their radio. It did not have the range to reach London, but at least they were able to reach their Underground contact, who set up a relay with the submarine. They would be sending him out in two days time.

The biggest problem they had encountered was explaining Carter's over-enthusiastic destruction of the porch of the Kommandantur.

Which Hogan had finally done by simply not explaining it at all. The men had stealthily cleaned up all the fireworks and gone about their business as if nothing had happened. This confused the Germans even more, and Hogan was ecstatic when Patton played along and also acted as if a porch being blown to smithereens in his presence was a perfectly normal occurrence. He never once mentioned it.

The matter was not addressed until General Von Kressen paid a visit to Stalag 13. Coincidentally, that was also the day General Patton made good his escape.

~HH~

Kinch had finally been able to confirm the sub pick up. The mission was a go. Now, Hogan just had to figure out a way to get his father down into the tunnel.

He paced for a while, and then it hit him.

"Newkirk, I need you to take Carter down and get him set up as a Wehrmacht General."

"Yes, sir. Any particulars?"

"Not really. Carter, just make sure you impress and distract those guards. While you keep them busy, we'll get Patton down into the tunnel."

"How am I supposed to do that? They never open the door, besides, now that there's no porch, there's also no door!"

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Minor detail…Use the back door…the one into the kitchen."

"They'll open it?"

"They will when General Von Kressen knocks on the door and demands to be let in."

"General who?"

Hogan grinned. "You, Carter."

"Oh. I can do that. Then what?"

"You keep them distracted, and we get my father down into the tunnel."

Carter smiled. "Piece o' pie!"

Hogan nodded happily and started out the door.

Carter stopped abruptly. "Just one thing, Colonel."

"What's that?"

"What do I do when they discover your dad's gone?"

Hogan cocked his head and rubbed his chin. "You storm out to your car and threaten to report them to Berlin, of course. We'll have Olsen pick up a car from the motor pool and wait for you to come out, you get in, he drives you around the back of camp, drops you off and takes it back to the motor pool. He sneaks back in through my window. Nobody knows the difference. Kinch can just slip the Sergeant of he Motorpool a few extra marks this month. Simple!"

Carter stared at Hogan. Hogan grinned hugely at him. "Come on, General!"

~HH~

The rescue mission went off without a hitch. Newkirk had outdone himself. Carter's uniform was a mastepiece. Newkirk's reasoning was simple. The better the uniform, the more convincing Andrew would be in his role. The more convincing Andrew was, the more likely they would be to get Patton into the tunnel. And the sooner he was in the tunnel, the sooner he would be gone.

As always, Carter was briliant. The guards were immediately flustered by the appearance of the General. They had timed it so that it was after the interim commandants's normal working hours, and Hogan had men keeping an eye on the VIP quarters.

They got the general into the tunnel and settled in. Hogan kept away from the tunnels after that. He was not ready to see his father, and he did not want him to know he was in charge of the operation. He needed his cooperation if the mission was to succeed, and if his father knew he was Papa Bear, it would likely not happen.

Newkirk headed up to get Hogan. He knew that the guv was nervous about seeing his father, but he also realized the timing was critical. "General Patton is down in the tunnel waiting to speak to you, sir."

"Does he know I'm Papa Bear?"

"No sir. I think he likes what he sees, but we've not said a word about you, just as you asked. I still don't see why you wanted to keep it from him, though."

Hogan shook his head. "There's no way you _could_ understand." His voice was brittle. He pulled on his jacket and adjusted his crush cap. "Let's go."

Patton was silent as he gazed around at the operation, the scope of which finally began to sink in. The young technical sergeant who had impersonated the general had changed back into his uniform. Patton found he did not care for this particular soldier. The man, Carter, struck him as basically weak, and would probably turn tail at the first sign of trouble. It occurred to him that this was likely how he had ended up here in the first place, although he had to admit he had made a convincing Kraut.

He was impressed with the operation itself, though. Papa Bear had a helluva reputation, and it was well-earned, from everything he could see. A lot of good men owed their lives to Papa Bear. His men were obviously loyal to him in a way Patton envied. It would be his pleasure to shake the hand of the man who lead this operation.

The British corporal who had gone to get their commander jumped off the ladder. A tall man dressed in the uniform of an American colonel followed. The Brit, whom Patton had gotten the distinct impression had no use for him whatsoever, stepped up to Patton and said, "General Patton, meet Papa Bear. Colonel Hogan, General Patton." He then stepped back and remained still, his face unreadable.

None of the men had ever seen a man's jaw drop before, but for a split second, it happened there in the tunnel. But Patton was a master at hiding his emotions. He studied his son, who had come to attention, and saluted properly. He returned the salute. "Fine operation you have have here."

Hogan prayed he would leave the sentence unfinished. He did not.

"Frankly, I never thought you had it in you."

The color drained from Hogan's face, though he remained perfectly still and calm. All of his men bristled at the General's implication. Only Kinch's discreet grip on his arm kept Newkirk from flattening Patton outright.

It was Andrew Carter who said it most eloquently at that point. He looked at the General. "Sir, permission to speak?"

Patton frowned, but assented. "Granted."

" _Basia culos meos"_ **

And Patton obviously understood what he'd said, because he stepped up to Andrew Carter and slapped the holy hell out of him, dropping him instantly to the tunnel floor.

Newkirk was at Andrew's side in a moment. Carter sat up, shaking his head. "I'm okay."

Hogan, eyes blazing, rounded on his father. "I should let the Krauts keep you! Newkirk, take care of Carter. Kinch, take care of _him_!" He flung an arm at Patton. He stormed out of the tunnel and back up to his quarters.

~HH~

In the tunnel, the men stood frozen in shock for a moment. Not one man in the room had misunderstood what Carter had said. Carter himself seemed to recover first. He started to grin, then winced painfully as he looked up at Newkirk. "Guess I deserved that, but I'm not sorry." Newkirk was silent as he helped Andrew to his feet.

Kinch turned coolly at the general. "May I show you to your quarters, sir? They are not much, but it is the best we can do, under the circumstances. I am sure you will understand. I would advise you to rest. It will be a long journey to the sub. You leave after 0100 tonight." His speech was clipped and formal, very unlike his normal cadence.

Patton nodded, but he was still livid. He pointed at Carter. "I want that man put on report! He should be in the cooler at the very least!"

Kinch's chin came up. He looked the General dead in the eye. "I am sure that can be arranged, sir. Would you like me to take you to the Kommandant's office to put in your request?"

Patton huffed and his neck got red. "Point taken. Just keep that man away from me."

"Sir, you would have to discuss _that_ with your son. _He_ is the one who issues the orders here."

And with that, Kinch lead the way down the tunnel, to the VIP guest quarters. Patton followed, wondering again at the leader his son obviously had become.

~HH~

Hogan sat up in his quarters fuming. His heart was pounding, and so was his head. This was most likely the last time he would see his father before the end of the war…and possibly, given the fact either of them could be killed before the end, maybe they would never see each other again.

He realized he was going to have to calm down. He couldn't be wound so tightly and still get his father safely to the sub. He thought about trying for a nap, but realized the last thing he wanted was to close his eyes. Instead, he reached for his art supplies. His men knew that along with his drums, and reading, art was the way he coped with the pressures of camp life and with leadership. And sometimes it was the way he gave life to emotions for which he had no words. Dreams he knew would never happen.

Three hours later, he sprayed the finished sketch, and sat looking at it for a long time. It was different than many he had done, but it was good. Damned good. Not that it mattered, because no one would ever see this one. Usually, his art found a place somewhere in the barracks. His quarters were covered with it, and most of the men had accepted at least one for their bunk wall. This one was different. He tucked it into the bottom of his footlocker and there it would stay, hidden, until a dark December night in 1945. ***

~HH~

Almost before he realized it, the men were getting Patton ready for his trip to the submarine and London. Secretly, Hogan was delighting in the fact that only he was aware that, while closed in spaces and tanks did not bother his father, the fact that he would be underwater trapped inside a tin can bother him greatly. The idea of being underwater scared the bejabbers out of his father. And, of course, he would never admit it.

All the members of the core team were present in the tunnel at the time Hogan and Patton left.

LeBeau told Hogan, "Sir, I have packed enough food for the both of you. You should be fine all the way to the submarine. I'm sure they will have food for you for your trip home.

Hogan smiled at him. "Thank you LeBeau."

The Frenchman nodded. "I will see you when you return. I will have breakfast waiting." And he climbed the ladder without another word. Hogan was well aware that he never once glanced at Patton.

Hogan had to set aside his feelings when he saw the bruises covering the left side of Carter's face. The young man said nothing but simply handed Hogan a small canvas bag.

"What's this?" Hogan asked.

"I made you some poppers. In case you need a distraction."

Hogan nodded. "Thank you, Carter. Those just might come in handy."

Patton Looked at Carter quizzically. "Just what the hell are poppers?"

Carter did not answer. He ignored the general completely and simply climbed the barracks ladder and disappeared.

Patton flushed. "That was insubordination!"

Newkirk looked straight at the general, ice lacing his tone. "I suppose you could throw 'im in jail. Except we're already in one. Sir. And those poppers? They're his specialty. They might save your life. He's good at that. Good at a lot of things…Just like your son."

He then turned to his commander. "Be safe guv. Come back to us."

As he stepped onto the bottom rung, he looked back at the general, contempt oozing from every pore. "Now I see why he said he wanted to keep his distance..." And then he too, was gone.

Finally, it was just Kinch, Hogan and his father. Hogan turn to Kinch. "Take care of the place for me will ya?"

"Course I will. You be safe out there, sir. Try and be back before dawn, but we've got roll call covered, if needs be."

Hogan nodded. He turned his father. "Alright let's get this show on the road." The two men picked up their packs and headed out of the tunnel. Kinch sighed as he sat down at his radio. It was going to be a long night.

~HH~

The forest path was dark and Hogan was beginning to think that he would never talk to his father. He thought back to the sketch. _Yes, he had hidden it, but he had drawn it. Why? If he hated the old man that much, he would never have drawn it. Right? That right there was the rub. He knew he really loved him. And admired him. And he would never tell him. Because that was just something he would never say. And it was something the old man would never want to hear. Because his father would see it as weakness. So..._

Hogan skirted an outcropping of rocks and held up his hand. "Let's take a breather. The hike gets a bit trickier from here. There are a lot more patrols out. Wouldn't want to get caught at this point."

Patton couldn't help it. "No, you're way too important a man, aren't you, Papa Bear?"

Hogan was suddenly exhausted and his temper flared. "Really? Well, if I am, then it's because you taught me to feel that way! You showed me how to lead, Dad! Can't you see that? Don't you have a clue that I have watched every move you have made since I was old enough to walk? Since I first figured out you were the most important man in the world? Damnit, I have learned more about what NOT to do than I ever have about what _to_ do, and I learned it by watching you!"

Patton's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Hogan didn't miss the familiar stance.

"Yeah, go ahead. Hit me. It wouldn't be the first time. But this time, it _will_ be the last, I promise you. You need me a whole lot more than I need you. The Allies need you, but I don't. I should feed you to the Krauts just for what you did to my man Carter back there in the tunnel. He is one of the best airmen—best men— I've ever known. There is so much more to that kid than anybody even knows…and you dismissed him like he was _nothing_. I don't blame him for what he said to you. None of these people are nothing, General. And it's about time you realized it." He huffed in frustration. "Break-time is over. Let's move out."

As he turned to go, suddenly Patton put his hand on Hogan's arm.

"Stop."

Hogan turned. "What is it? Did you hear something?"

Patton smirked. His eyes grew sad. "As a matter of fact, I did. But it was nothing to do with the Germans."

Hogan looked confused. "Then what?"

Patton adjusted his pack. "You, Son. I heard _you_." And the old general began hiking down the path once more. Hogan followed, more unsure of his feelings than ever.

A short time later, they met their contact, and drove the rest of the way to the rendezvous.

~HH~

As always, the drive was silent. The driver wore his hat low over his face. He made his way expertly through the backstreets and country lanes and eventually to a small wooden dock at the edge of an inlet. The tang of the sea air was strong and reminded Hogan of trips to the beach and walks on the boardwalk when he was young.

They stepped quickly to the dock, and almost immediately a small wooden boat appeared, almost as if by magic. The teenager manning the oars stepped out, holding a hooded lantern. He looked at Hogan and murmured, "This is Zeus?"

Hogan nodded. He took the lamp from the boy. "Could you give us a minute?"

The boy shrugged, picked up his passenger's pack and returned to the boat, uninterested in anything except finishing his mission and returning to bed.

Patton looked at his son. "Zeus? Whose idea was that for a codename?"

"Mine. I figured it fit nicely with your delusions of grandeur. You like to think you're God…now's your chance."

Patton cocked his head for a moment, unsure how to take the comment. And then he saw the smile. He shook his head. "Nope. I ain't God. Because there is no way you could _ever_ walk on water, boy!"

Hogan blinked as his father laughed quietly. "You get home safe to your mother, you hear me? She needs you."

"She needs you, too, you know."

Patton sighed, "I know. But it's been a long war, and I have a feeling it's going to be a lot longer than any of us know before we're all home together." There was an odd expression on his face, one that Hogan had never seen before, and somehow it frightened him.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Who me? Hell yes, I'm fine."

Suddenly Hogan felt bad about sending his dad out on the sub when he knew how frightened he was of being underwater.

"Dad, about the sub…it was the only way—"

Patton cut him off with a gesture. "Don't you think I know that? What, you were gonna advertise my rescue by calling for a plane? Don't worry. I'll be fine. I've been through worse."

Hogan looked askance for a moment. "Yeah? When?"

"The day you told me to go to hell and walked out of my life."

Hogan sighed. "You made it pretty easy to do that, y'know."

Patton nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm too much like my old man." He shook his head. "But that's no excuse. Look, this is not the time or place. We'll talk when we get home. But, for the record?" He paused, seeming to search for the right thing to say. Finally, he looked his son in the eye. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

There were no fireworks, no rush of emotion. Just a deep sense of relief, of the release of a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Yeah, Dad. I forgive you."

The old man nodded and turned towards the boat.

"Dad?"

Patton turned. "Yeah?"

 _Security be damned._ Hogan hugged him tightly. "I'm gonna miss you."

His father smirked. "Fix the sight on your gun, and you won't."

Hogan smiled at their old joke. He hadn't heard it in years. He looked over at the boat. The kid was getting impatient. It was time to go. He rubbed his chin.

Patton followed his gaze. "Guess this is it. You take care of yourself."

"Yeah. You too." Hogan helped his father into the boat. He said nothing more as the boy picked up his oars. There was really nothing more to say, anyway.

But as he watched the little boat disappear into the mist, Robert Hogan whispered "G'bye, Pop. Godspeed."

~The End~

~HH~

*Patton had trained his men in desert tactics for years in the build-up prior to WW2, so I believe this to be a safe assumption. ** _"Basia culos meos"_ is Latin for "Kiss my ass." Latin was a standard requirement for all American high school students at that time (although he would likely have learned the insult _outside_ the classroom), so Carter would have been well aware that Patton would have known exactly what he was saying. The real Patton was once officially reprimanded for slapping a hospitalized soldier whom he perceived as weak because he was suffering from apparent battle fatigue…so this scenario is not that far-fetched. *** Of course, this is a fictional relationship, but the fact is, Patton was injured while stationed in Mannheim, Germany in a car accident one day before he was to return to the United States. He died on December 21, 1945, in a hospital in Heidelberg, twelve days later. There has been much controversy concerning his death.


End file.
